


Memories are the Dreams that Go Threadbare When Daylight Breaks

by LauraDoloresIssum



Series: Dying Light [3]
Category: Dying Light (Video Game)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-29
Updated: 2019-06-29
Packaged: 2020-05-29 15:50:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 650
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19403494
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LauraDoloresIssum/pseuds/LauraDoloresIssum
Summary: Our other Kyle Crane survives the outbreak, at a cost.





	Memories are the Dreams that Go Threadbare When Daylight Breaks

Memories are the Dreams that Go Threadbare When Daylight Breaks

Kyle Crane had been squatting for about two months before he found the Tower. For the first week he stayed holed up in a ratty apartment with a broken staircase, eating and drinking so little that he was constantly lightheaded, spending as much time as possible asleep, and never, ever going out. Back then, the sound of screaming had been constant, full of pain and rage and terror. In the day, you hid from the sprinters and the living, at night you hid from the nightmares.

By week two after the Flood, almost everyone was dead and most of the infected had been reduced to shambling idiots. The water had been shut off days ago. Dehydration had driven him out to looting. Once he had found food and water, some semblance of rationality had returned.

He began roving through neighborhoods, staying light and quick, carrying nothing that wouldn’t fit in his bag. He stayed above street level as much as he could, using rooftops, awnings, anything he could. The slums were tight-packed, so there was usually a choice of terrain. Hunger had made him too weak to use weapons, but other survivors were few and far between. It was amazing what had been left behind in the chaos. A few rare times he found lost airdrops, and carefully rationed the virus suppressant inside. He only had seizures occasionally. He fled or killed on sight anything he found. He couldn’t tell who was human anymore.

Thinning resources eventually drove him higher, out of the Caldera. It was month two when he heard garbled transmissions coming from a lost radio.

He was patient. He scoped the Tower out for another month, listening to their chatter, how they talked to each other, how they dealt with survivors. They seemed to be trying to rescue as many people as possible but not having the space or supplies to care for them. Around the middle of his spying, the tone of their chatter changed. They were talking about rescue missions, electric fences, UV lights, barricades. About taking back Harran. He made a choice.

It was month three of the quarantine, and he was matted with a perpetual coat of dirt. He knocked on the metal door, taking a quick glance around for hostiles. He knocked again.

A voice, muffled by the door. “Who is it?”

Crane’s voice was rusty with disuse. “Are you taking in survivors?”

The door was unchained. Internally, Crane doubted their competence.

“Military?” The man inside looked at Crane’s filthy fatigues and bag. “Are you here to rescue us?”

“Sorry,” Crane croaked.

“Oh. Well, you don’t look like Rais’ thug, so come in. We’ll get you some food.” The man gave a nervous glance around before he locked the door again.

Crane had come prepared with offerings of Antizin, which they accepted. He dry-shaved, showered, and received clean clothes, and felt human for the first time in three months.

“I’ve heard that you’re planning on retaking Harran,” he said to the man who brought the new intakes food, huddled together in a low-floor common room.

“That’s right.”

“Where do I sign up?”

The next day, Brecken and Aldemir watched silently as he demonstrated ten perfect headshots on plastic dummies with a homemade bow, handgun, and semi-automatic rifle from the roof of the next building.

“You’re ridiculous,” said Aldemir finally.

“I have no friends, ma’am,” was his only response.

In Headquarters, Brecken had laid out a map of the city. Crane was not a strategist but he helped as best he could. He glimpsed the Revenant, an androgynous monster that slunk in like a cat to make a quick report and then slunk out again without waiting to be dismissed.

He helped dismantle stair barricades and clean the contaminated levels until 1 am when he was relieved. He went to bed and slept.


End file.
